Then Walter's business started hemorrhaging money. Every domestic avenue dried up.
I saw the worry eating away at my wife, so I made a decision: I'd open the foreign channels myself.
I reached out to contacts overseas, but Walter couldn't communicate with international partners directly. So I turned my attention to Henson Corp, a company drowning in the same waters. I threw them a lifeline and turned them into the bridge Walter needed.
My one condition: Walter Pruitt would be their top-priority client.
It took me a full year to build those connections from the ground up.
On my way home, I'd seen the press conference. Walter, beaming before the cameras, announcing the Pruitt-Henson marriage alliance. I'd told myself it had to be some other girl from the family—a cousin, maybe a niece.
Never Cynthia.
But if I was being honest, the signs had been there for a while.
During that year abroad, I'd video-called Cynthia almost every night. In the beginning, she'd pick up, smiling, warm. Then the calls grew shorter. Her tone turned impatient. Eventually, she stopped answering altogether.
I told myself it was the distance. That was all.
But sometimes, before she hung up—or before she declined the call—I'd catch a man's voice in the background. While she was out shopping. While she was getting out of the shower. While she was lying in bed.
When I asked, the answers came quick and easy. A friend's husband. My girlfriend's boyfriend. Just someone nearby.
I trusted her. I didn't let myself think the worst.
Now, standing here, Adam Henson's voice merged with every one of those phantom voices, and the picture finally clicked into place. Cynthia had been lying to me the entire time.
I ignored Walter's taunts. My gaze dropped to Cynthia's belly.
"How far along?" My voice was level. Quiet.
Cynthia pressed her lips together and looked away, unable to meet my eyes.
It was Adam who answered, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "It's not your kid. Why do you care?"
He paused, savoring the moment. "But sure, I'll tell you. Eight months."
He strolled over and leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear. "Fun fact—we slept together the night you left."
His grin widened. "You're the textbook definition of a cuckold."